


infinity

by canvases (oilpaints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpaints/pseuds/canvases
Summary: “I was just thinking about how there’s a world out there where the curtains are yellow instead of red. There are worlds where we won the match against Karasuno, or where we met sooner,” he says softly, swallowing. “But there is also a world out there where you don’t love me.”All the what-ifs and could’ve-beens that go hand-in-hand with infinity.





	infinity

The afternoon sunlight pours in slowly from the lone window, stirring the red curtains and bathing the room in amber light. The bed is only made for a single person, but they make do. Kawanishi pushes himself against the wall and Yamagata laughs as he climbs in next to him, their arms pressed together. Kawanishi watches the curve of his mouth as he laughs and the way the light turns the dark flecks in his eyes into pieces of gold and laughs right back, taking his hand. Like everything about him, it’s warm.

“God, all this work is killing me,” Yamagata complains, shifting even closer so their feet are touching. “I never want to go to college,” he says, and Kawanishi takes this to mean _I never want to leave you._ “Take me back to practice with you, I’m willing to suffer through more of coach’s hell drills. Anything but Math homework.”

He chuckles, clutching his hand a little tighter. “Practice doesn’t start again for three days, but you can volunteer to help run it. Kenjirou would probably appreciate the help. And I can help you with that homework, if you want.”

“You’re the best, Kawanishi.” Yamagata sighs, slinging his leg over his. His skin glitters like bronze, and dust motes dance above his head in a slow waltz. “What would I do without you?”

“Fail Math, probably,” he answers, and they both burst out laughing. It trickles into silence, and Kawanishi stares at the blank, white ceiling. Thoughts start to blur in his head, and he thinks of unfinished homework and vice captaincy. A whole year laid ahead of him, the days like threads yet to be sewn into the grander scheme of things—not that he wants to be apart of the grander scheme of _anything._  He’d much rather stay in bed next to Yamagata for the rest of his life. If only they had gotten together sooner. Maybe there’s a world out there in which they do.

“Hey,” he breathes into the silence. Yamagata hums, turning to look up at him with raised eyebrows. “Do you ever think of the multiverse theory?”

He rubs circles into Kawanishi’s hand, looping into what could be an _eight_ or _infinity._  “Not really,” he says, because he lives in the _now_ and never in _what could’ve been_ or _what could be_ , like Kawanishi tends to do. He loves that about him, he does. “Except, like, if it is a thing, does that mean there’s a universe where dragons exist? ’Cause that would be really cool.”

He laughs softly, eyes fluttering closed for a second. It’s overwhelming, just how endeared he is to this one boy. “There probably is a few,” he says. “It is cool, how having an inifnite number of universes can be hopeful and sad all at once.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing much, I was just thinking about how there’s a world out there where the curtains are yellow instead of red. There are worlds where we won the match against Karasuno, or where we met sooner,” he says softly, swallowing. “But there is also a world out there where you don’t love me. Things like that.”

Yamagata is quiet, probably thinking. His hand grips Kawanishi’s even tighter.

 

**where the curtains are yellow**

“Imagine,” Kawanishi says, “that there’s a universe out there where my curtains are yellow instead of red. There’s no difference, there are no dragons. Just red curtains instead of yellow.”

Yamagata laughs gently, watching the way his eyes seem to light up at this thought. It’s moments like these that he wants to keep in bottles, or in playlists, or just in his memory for as long as possible. Because it’s moments like these where he falls in love with a new part of Kawanishi and his ridiculously wonderful mind that’s so wonderfully ridiculous. He looks at the curtains that he pulled open earlier to let the afternoon sunlight in. He basks in that light, now. He wonders if things would be different if they were red, instead. He wonders if he would still be holding Kawanishi’s hand, in that universe. He hopes so.

“I dunno, yellow’s my favorite color,” Yamagata says. “It always seems really happy, like the sun or something.”

“I know,” he says, and when Yamagata turns to look at him, he finds Kawanishi staring at him fondly. “I never liked yellow because it’s too bright, but I think I see it now. It’s nice to have a bit of sunshine every now and then.”

 

**where we won instead of lost**

Yamagata’s mind is still reeling. He thinks of that last ball he received, and how it could have nearly ended the match if not for his reflexes, honed and polished through the years. He hadn’t even stopped to think, he just dove for it and nearly scraped his elbow in the process. But _it went up_ , and it turned into a set and a spike and a whole game ahead of them. And _they won._

“I was scared for a moment there,” he says to Reon. “I almost thought we lost. Shit, I can’t believe I doubted the team like that.”

Reon smiles at him. “I don’t blame you, I think I almost thought that, too,” he says. “One second, Hayato, I need to check up on Goshiki for a bit. That last block hit him pretty bad.”

He nods. “Make sure he’s alright for me,” he calls after him. He hears another person approaching and turns around to see Kawanishi lingering behind just like he expected. He always gets even more lethargic after matches, but not entirely worn-out—he has much better stamina than he lets on. Maybe not as much as his own, but there’s no way Kawanishi could keep up with him during practice if it were otherwise. “Hey, Kawanishi,” he says, and the other boy jolts out of his thoughts. Yamagata grins at him. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late to the bus. I don’t think either of us want to run all the way back to school.”

Kawanishi pulls a face at this, frowning even more. It’s enough to get him to quicken his pace a bit so there footsteps are in time with each other. Reon seems to be caught up in Goshiki’s animated retelling of the match, so Yamagata turns to Kawanishi, except... the dying sunlight rings his head like a halo, and it knocks the breath right out of Yamagata’s lungs.

He thinks to ask him to sit next to him on the bus, but really, he wants to ask him to stay next to him for the rest of his life and then some. Kawanishi, however, beats him to the question. “Senpai,” he says softly. “Can I sit next to you?”

Yamagata flashes him a crooked grin. “Yeah, sure,” he says, because he can tell Kawanishi all this some other day. They have a little more time, and that’s enough. “C’mon, if we kept walking like this, there will be no bus to sit in.”

Kawanishi snorts, but his footsteps start to grow faster, and they walk on, straight for the sun.

 

 **where i met you sooner**  

Here, Yamagata is nine years old and blinking at the sun. He’s been receiving by himself for a while now, but it’s boring without anyone else to play with. Until it’s not — and he accidentally hits a passing boy with his worn volleyball. He apologizes profusely to said boy (whom he recognizes as his new neighbour) who just shakes his head and fiddles with the hood of his shirt shyly.

“I’m Yamagata Hayato! What’s your name?” Yamagata asks, flashing him a toothy smile.

“Kawanishi Taichi,” he mumbles. “Why do you have so many bandages?”

“Huh?” Yamagata blinks, turning to stare at the bandages plastered all over his legs and arms and around his fingers. They’re all brightly coloured. Kawanishi’s skin is pale and unmarked, save for the noticeable scar on his forehead. “Oh, that’s because I play volleyball and I get hurt, sometimes, but it’s fun!”

Kawanishi’s nose wrinkles, like he doesn’t believe him. Yamagata frowns. “What’s so fun about getting hurt?”

Yamagata’s eyes light up, and he holds up his ball, smiling warmly. “I’ll show you. Come play with me!”

“Fine,” he says. “But only for a little bit. It looks very tiring.” His nose is still all scrunched up, but Yamagata’s smile just gets even wider.

Years later, Kawanishi still finds volleyball tiring but he’s on the team in his middle school, so that says something. They may not go to the same school, but they’re still next-door-neighbours and possibly even best friends (even though Kawanishi won’t let him call him _Taichi-chan_ anymore) so he’s the first one—aside from Yamagata’s mother—that finds out about his sports scholarship.

“Shiratorizawa,” he says, eyes wide with wonder as he falls into Kawanishi’s bed. “Can you believe it, Taichi-kun, I’m going to _Shiratorizawa_. Incredible, right?” He turns to see Kawanishi still sitting at the edge of his own bed, staring back at him with an unreadable expression. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He snaps out of his trance. “Just thinking about how stupid your hair looks,” he says in that quiet voice of his, crossing his legs at the ankles. Over the years, Yamagata’s come to associate both with Kawanishi’s lying habits. “You look like you’ve gotten electrified, or something.”

“You’re one to talk, Bedhead,” he retorts, gesturing to his hair, sticking up all over the place. He’s long since given up on combs. His eyes drift back to his ankles again, still crossed, and the way he’s biting his lip. He goes soft. He doesn’t like seeing him upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kawanishi says, but he _still_ has his legs crossed. He rubs his neck. “It’s just... Shiratorozawa is a boarding school, isn’t it?”

 _Oh,_ he realizes. _Of course_. “You gonna miss me?” Yamagata asks, grinning, but he’s not teasing at all. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I’ll miss you, too, you know.”

“Don’t get sappy on me,” Kawanishi says, but there’s no bite in his words and his lips are pursed in his way of smiling. “My grades are good and I’m a starter on the team. One way or another, I’ll follow you. I will.”

Another year later, Yamagata sees Kawanishi Taichi lining up with the rest of the first years. He’s gotten even taller, _damn him_ , and his hair is even more unruly than the last time they saw each other. The practice jersey looks odd on him, maroon instead of the familiar blue he used to wear in the middle school matches Yamagata used to watch. With a smile, he realizes that they’ll be playing on the same court, now. He thinks back to Kawanishi when he was eight years old and the same height as he was. And to think he used to dislike volleyball — he’s got a bit of quiet ambition in his shoulders, now.

Yamagata can see him scowling a little, too, but it’s spring, and his allergies come and go with the blossoming of the flowers.

When their eyes meet, his face softens, and his eyes seem to reach out to say _hello._

 

**where you don’t love me**

“But _Kawanishi,_ ” Yamagata says, falling back onto his bed. “It’s our anniversary in three months, what do I do?”

“Getting dinner would be nice, I think. Sukiyaki is always good,” Kawanishi says, absently twirling his pen between his fingers. He hunches over his desk to scribble something onto his Maths homework. “Don’t mess up my bedsheets, Yamagata-san, I just fixed those.”

“Put some more effort! _You_ like sukiyaki, and last time I checked, I’m not dating _you,”_ he jokes, laughing lightly. Kawanishi, however, stiffens in his seat, his grip on his pen faltering. Yamagata’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Tough question, is all.”

“I’d help you, but we both know I suck at anything that involves numbers.” Yamagata smiles faintly when Kawanishi laughs. “Anyway, _help me,_ I’m having a _crisis_ here.”

Kawanishi sighs and turns around to face him. “She’s _your_ girlfriend, what do I know?”

“I dunno, but I think I’m better off asking you instead of Satori. Reon suggested a dinner as well, but like, where? He also suggested flowers, and that’s sweet but kinda cliché.” Yamagata stares at the ceiling, mulling it over. He thinks of plaited dark hair and sunny smiles. He thinks of forest-green eyes and getting lost in them. Bright laughter. _Adventures_. “I want her to be happy, you know?” he says, looking up at Kawanishi to find him staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah,” he says softly, turning back to his homework. “I know.” Kawanishi hums thoughtfully, scratching his neck. “Go out for dinner. No need to be fancy. You can get uri donburi, and then get her a dessert she likes. Instead of flowers, giver her something she’s interested in.”

“Elaborate.”

Kawanishi chuckles. “Where did you learn _that_ word?”

“Shut up,” Yamagata says, laughter bubbling in his throat. He thinks of tan fingers skimming through a dictionary’s yellowing pages.

He shrugs. “If somebody I’ve been dating for months gave me flowers, I’d dump them because...”

“Allergies.”

“Right. That means they don’t really know me all that well. If they did, they’d just stay at home with me and sleep, or something.”

Yamagata hums, putting all of this into mind. He thinks of adventures again, and the giddy, breathless feeling of something waiting for you out there. Maybe he could take his girlfriend off to an amusement park, or just wander around wherever their feet can go. “That’s really good advice, actually. Thanks Kawanishi, what would I do without you?”

Because while she is an adventure, he knows that Kawanishi’s a friend, a constant, and—time and time again—someone to come home to.

“Fail Math, probably,” Kawanishi replies, startling him out of his thoughts.

Yamagata laughs. “True, if I never met you, I’d never get my homework done. Don’t ever stop being my friend, Kawanishi, I don’t want to fail.”

Kawanishi stares up at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I don’t think I ever will.”

 

**where you love me, and i, you**

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Kawanishi says softly, brushing his thumb against his palm. “Don’t think too much, your brain might explode.”

“Shut up,” Yanagata laughs, “you’re so mean.”

Kawanishi studies his face. His eyebrows are still drawn together slightly. He rolls over and presses his thumb between them. “What are you thinking about?”

“What you said earlier,” Yamagata answers, turning to meet his eyes. “You know, if there are an infinite number of universes out there, there will be a whole lot where I don’t love you and you don’t love me. And that’s sad, I guess, but this version of me loves this version of you, so what does it matter?”

“That was so sappy,” Kawanishi says. “You’re such a sap.”

Yamagata grins up at him with that crooked smile he’s come to love. “You’re _dating_ this sap, so what does that make you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Whatever,” he says. “But you’re right, you know?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, infinity is just a concept, isn’t it? And we’re here now.”

And _now_ is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

 


End file.
